


The New Porter

by E350tb



Series: Steven on Sodor [1]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon), Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Illustrations, Mystery, Post-Steven Universe: The Movie, Story Book Style, Trains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25708474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E350tb/pseuds/E350tb
Summary: There's a mysterious new porter on the Island of Sodor.(I'll take things that nobody wanted or asked for for $200, Alex.)
Series: Steven on Sodor [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864513
Comments: 16
Kudos: 6





	1. The Haunted Windmill

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is happening. And it's not a parody. I know nobody on Earth will like it, but... *shrug.*
> 
> The trainz screenshots use content from Sodor Workshops, CogRailway 3D, the Railway Works, SI3D and I think #1TFM. If I've missed anyone in giving credit, please don't hesitate to let me know. I claim no ownership of the music linked; that's the work of the creative community on YouTube, who are doing fantastic work.

[It was springtime on the Island of Sodor.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTXUj3fwqMs) The winter snows had finally melted, and the farmers were planting their first new produce for the year. New flowers were springing up by the lineside, and everyone was in good spirits.

The railway was busy too. All of the engines bustled about, delivering goods and passengers to and fro. Most of them didn’t mind, but sometimes they couldn’t help but feel overworked - and sometimes, they’d take out their mood on the other engines.

“This is my third train today,” sniffed James one morning at the Junction. “You’d think the Fat Controller didn’t have any other engines he could pick on.”

“We’re all busy, James,” snorted Thomas. “Maybe if you spent more time working and less time complaining, you’d be done faster.”

“Rubbish!” James exclaimed.

He narrowed his eyes.

“I’ve heard stories today, you know,” he said darkly. “Stories from some of the passengers. They say the watermill on your branch line is haunted.”

“Haunted?” Thomas scoffed. “Utter rubbish. You’re going soft in the boiler if you believe that nonsense.”

The guard’s whistle blew, and Thomas was gone without another word.

[“Stupid James, stupid James, stupid James,” Thomas huffed.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJXXfVKFKBQ&t)

Not far from the junction was an old watermill by the river. The railway passed over a bridge next to it, and for years Thomas had puffed past it without a second thought. The watermill had worked quietly for generations, but the owners had closed it down a year before. The wheel still spun, but there was nothing being done inside the old building.

Or at least, that was what Thomas thought.

As he clattered over the old bridge, Thomas could have sworn he heard a strange sound from inside the watermill - _creak, creak, creak._

“What was that?” he asked.

His driver leant out of the cab, straining his ears.

“Hmm,” he mused. “It sounds like footsteps, I think. Probably some of the local kids have wandered in there.”

 _Or it could be a ghost_ , thought Thomas.

“Should we tell the station master? A-at the next station, I mean?” asked Thomas.

The driver shrugged. “I don’t know what he’d do if we did. That’s not railway property, after all. Best we just ignore it, eh?”

Thomas tried to follow his advice, but for the rest of the day, his mind kept wandering back to the strange creaking inside the old, worn watermill.

[Later that evening, Thomas met Percy at the sheds.](https://youtu.be/djXOnHlPeok?t=78)

“What’s gotten you all glum then?” asked Percy. He’d spent the day on a children’s charter to the airfield and back, and was in a good mood.

Thomas frowned and looked at his buffers.

“Percy,” he asked. “Have you heard anything… _strange_ at the watermill lately?”

Percy raised his eyebrows. “Only water,” he replied. “Why?”

“James said he’d heard there was a ghost there,” said Thomas, “and when I was crossing today, I heard a strange creaking sound inside. I’m worried he might be right.”

Percy laughed out loud.

“You silly engine!” he exclaimed. “You’re hearing things! Ghosts aren’t real!”

Thomas’ frown deepened.

“But-”

“Look,” continued Percy, “James is just trying to get under your dome. There’s no such things as ghosts, it’s probably just a cat or something. You aren't scared of cats, are you?”

“No,” said Thomas glumly.

Percy beamed.

“Exactly!” he said. “Now, let’s get back to _my_ day, shall we?”

Percy went back to talking about his day, but Thomas wasn’t listening. He drifted off to sleep, still thinking about the mysterious creaking noise.

[A few days later, Thomas was coming down the branch line with a small goods train.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FfxWFh33UmU) It was a ‘pick-up’ goods - a train that stopped at every station to pick up or drop off wagons as they were needed. It had been a long journey down from the top station, and Thomas was looking forward to a drink at the junction.

It was a lovely sunny day, and the trucks were behaving well. Thomas closed his eyes and hummed to himself as he puffed through the flower-filled fields.

All of a sudden, there was a loud _clang!_

“Ouch!” exclaimed Thomas, feeling a sudden, sharp pain in his boiler. Steam hissed and leaked everywhere, and his driver grabbed the brake.

“Whoa, boy, whoa!”

He brought the train to a halt just before the watermill.

“What was that?” asked the fireman.

The driver shook his head.

“Search me,” he replied, “but we can’t keep going if we’re leaking steam like that. We don’t want to cause more damage. Here, stay with Thomas and I’ll see if I can’t find a telephone in one of these huts and houses.”

“Alright,” said the fireman, and the driver jumped down to see what he could find. Before long, he was trudging over to the old watermill.

Thomas couldn’t help but gulp.

[The driver was gone for some time.](https://youtu.be/djXOnHlPeok?t=916) Thomas began to worry that the ghost might have eaten him.

At long last, he returned.

“Hullo!” he said cheerfully. “I’ve met your ghost, Thomas!”

Thomas gulped.

“I-is it real, then?” he asked nervously.

“In a way,” replied the driver. “He’s a nice American chap. He’s headed off to the Junction to fetch help - by the looks of it, he can get there much faster than I can.”

“Most people could,” the fireman joked.

“Can we trust him?” asked Thomas.

“Oh, he’s a friendly ghost, I promise you,” said the driver kindly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, don’t worry.”

Thomas frowned. He couldn’t help but be wary about this ‘friendly ghost.’

The driver sat down next to the fireman in the cab.

“Turns out he’s been living there,” he said. “Poor lad doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He must have been walking about when Thomas heard that creaking.”

The fireman’s brow shot up. “So he’s a runaway?”

 _Worse and worse_ , thought Thomas. A ghost was bad enough, but a _runaway ghost_ sounded positively awful.

[Before too long, Thomas heard a loud whistle and saw a shape trundling towards him.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OGzyTwrTRM8) He breathed a sigh of relief - it was Donald.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” exclaimed Thomas.

Donald grinned.

“Afternoon, Thomas,” he said. “Heard a wee rumour from yon ghost friend that ye needed some help. So I suppose ye can be callin’ me the ghost train noo.”

Thomas let off steam indignantly. He was starting to get annoyed at all the ghost jokes.

“Ah well, dinnae fash yerself,” said Donald as he buffered up to Thomas. “We’ll have ye at yonder Works before ye ken it.”

The driver coupled the two engines together, and Donald started, tender-first, towards the Junction. Thomas was glad for the help, but he couldn’t help but feel anxious. After all, he may well have been about to meet a ‘friendly ghost’ at the next station.

Donald saw his frown and winked.

“It’s nae ghost,” he admitted, grinning. “He’s some wee Yankee in search of a haem. Reminds me a little o’ me n’ Douggie.”

“Yankee?” Thomas blinked. That sounded a bit painful, he thought.

“American,” Donald said. “But ye can ask him aboot it yeself, we’re just aboot there.”

A few minutes later, Donald pulled Thomas into the platform at the junction. There, standing next to him, was the Ghost of the Watermill.

He certainly didn’t look like a ghost, Thomas thought. He was fairly short and a little stout, with curly black hair, and he seemed almost embarrassed at the attention he was suddenly being given.

“We can’t thank you enough for the help,” said the driver, shaking his hand.

“Oh,” the man rubbed the back of his head. “It’s nothing. Just happy to lend a hand, you know?”

“Well, we’d never have made it here without you,” said Thomas. “You’re the friendliest runway ghost I’ve ever met.”

The man laughed nervously. “Oh, I-I’m not a ghost, but thanks.”

“Well, you’ve done us a good turn,” said the driver, “so we’ll do you one.” He wrote down a number in his notepad and handed it to the man. “That’s the station master’s number. Call him and let him know I said he should give you a job. It’s sure to be nicer than living in a watermill.”

The man turned slightly pink. “Oh, uh, th-thank you, but I can’t-”

“You can, and I insist you do,” said the driver. “It’s the least I can do, Mr…”

“What _is_ your name?” asked Thomas. “We can’t just keep calling your Mr. Ghost, can we?”

The man nodded.

[“I guess you can’t,” he replied. “My name is Steven Universe.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHzpVVa2myk)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd hoped to draw figures like the driver and Steven in, but I've been busy all week and it just didn't turn out.


	2. Porter Problems

[The Junction where Thomas’ branch line met the main line was a busy station indeed.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlqks_sCzF8) It was where the people of the valley and the distant mountains could change to trains to the rest of the island and the Mainland beyond, which meant there were a lot of passengers to be directed and luggage to be sorted.

The station master had been sympathetic when he hired Steven.

“It’ll be a bit of a job to get the hang of things,” he said. “Do the best you can, and the passengers will understand.”

Thomas’ train, which Duck was pulling while he was away at the works, was a guaranteed connection - it couldn’t leave until all the passengers and luggage from the connecting main line trains had been loaded and accounted for. Sometimes, Steven would get the names on the baggage muddled - the handwriting was bad or smudged, or he didn’t quite know where each bag was meant to go - and that meant trains were delayed. 

Most people didn’t mind, of course; they knew he was new to the job and doing as well as he could. The station staff appreciated the help anyway, and when they could, the passengers and engines offered tips and hints when he needed them.

But one of the engines _did_ mind. And he made sure everybody knew how much he minded.

“I have a _schedule_ to keep to,” huffed Henry in the sheds one evening. “I can’t be waiting at the Junction all day because some porter can’t read ‘Ffarquhar’ on a baggage tag.”

He’d had a long day. He’d been delayed at the Other Railway by a failed diesel, and waiting at the Junction had made him later still. He’d finally crawled into his warm shed just before sunset, hissing grumpily and moaning to all who would listen.

“They shouldn’t hire people who can’t do their jobs,” said James sympathetically. “If I didn’t know where my trains were meant to go, the Fat Controller would send me away.”

“Exactly,” said Henry. “But this porter gets a job he can’t do, just because someone felt sorry for him! It’s… it’s…”

He glanced over to Gordon - the big engine was watching him drowsily.

“Well?” said Henry expectantly.

“My dear Henry,” Gordon replied grandly, “I don’t have time to complain about porters. Besides, if he _is_ new, surely you should let him _learn_ before you complain, hmm?”

“That’s easy for you to say,” sniffed James. “You don’t have to stop there.”

“ _Precisely_ ,” said Gordon. “I’m an express engine, it’s not my concern. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to sleep.”

The big engine closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep without another word.

“Stupid Gordon,” muttered Henry. “Stupid porter. They don’t understand what I suffer through.”

The next day, a big spring storm hit the Island.

Few of the engines liked rain, but Henry hated it most of all. He couldn’t stand the dampness, the wind whistling under his wheels and around his cylinders. He waited miserably at the Big Station with his first train of the day; the passengers boarded under the cover of the big, glass roof, but Henry’s front end sat out in the cold.

“Ugh,” he moaned. “When can we get moving?”

“Not long now, old boy,” replied his driver. “We’re just waiting for the guard’s whistle now.”

“Hmm, here comes trouble,” muttered the fireman.

The driver looked back - the station master was wandering up, hands behind his back.

“Hullo,” he said officiously, “you’re speed restricted today. The Fat Controller’s worried the rain might be weakening the ballast.”

“Worse and worse!” snorted Henry.

The driver patted the side of his cab.

“Nothing we can do about that, I’m afraid,” he replied. “At least you’ll get a rest in the nice, dry shed on the Other Railway, hmm?”

“Yes,” said Henry darkly. “ _When_ we get there.”

Before long, the guard finally blew his whistle and raised his green flag, and Henry snorted off down the line.

[The rain steadily worsened as Henry rolled down the main line.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zXtZOxMNDXA) The big green engine scowled as the storm swirled around him - he felt wet, uncomfortable and miserable.

They were late into the first station, which didn’t matter because they had to waited for a delayed bus. Because of this, the signalman let a slow goods train out in front of him, and he had to wait even longer for that to clear the line. By the time he slithered into the Junction, he was half-an-hour late - and Duck hadn’t even arrived.

“Where is he?” he sniffed. “Doesn’t he know I’m late as it is?”

“Everybody’s late today,” soothed his driver. “I’m sure it’s not his fault.”

“That’s as may be,” grumbled Henry, “but I _want_ to blame him.”

He glanced back. Steven was helping an old couple with their bags to the footbridge; their bus was waiting on the other side.

“Hurry up, you!” he barked sourly. Steven jumped and nearly dropped the bags.

“Steady on, lad, steady on,” warned the driver. “We’re not going anywhere.”

After a long wait, Duck finally puffed into the station.

“Sorry we’re late,” he panted. “Some cows got loose on-”

“I don’t care,” snapped Henry. 

He glanced back at the passengers.

“Get in quickly!” he huffed. “And you! Don’t get the bags mixed up again!”

Steven sighed, and walked over to the trolley to start moving the bags over.

There were no mix-ups today, and Henry was soon ready to go. The guard blew his whistle, and he stormed away from the platform.

“Come _on!_ Come _on!_ Come _on!_ ”

Just ahead was a stretch of line where the ballast had been washed away by the rain. One of the rails was danging, unsupported, over the ground. Henry should have seen this, but he was so focused on moving the train quickly that he didn’t notice until too late.

[At last, he glanced forward and saw the dangling rail.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dB7-y5pjLkw)

“Stop! Stop!” he wailed.

The driver grabbed the brake and pulled it hard, but it was already too late. With a _crack_ , the rail buckled as Henry drove over it - he shook violently as his front wheels left the rails, skidding and shuddering to a halt on the dirt and gravel beside the line.

“ _Oooooosh!_ ” he exclaimed, steam hissing from his cylinders. “Help! Help!”

The driver climbed down, shaking his head.

“Not a hope, you stupid engine,” he replied. “You’re well and truly stuck.”

“And blocking the main line, too,” added the fireman.

“Get to the signal box and tell them what’s happened,” said the driver.

He stood back and shook his head.

“The Fat Controller won’t like this at all…”

Henry let off steam pathetically.

The fireman soon came back, along with Duck’s crew and some of the station staff.

“Bad news,” he said. “The Breakdown Train’s busy. We’ll have to leave him there until it’s ready, and that could be hours.”

“Maybe we could lift him back onto the line,” asked Steven, “if we all lifted together.”

The fireman laughed. “Don’t be daft! He’s far too heavy.”

“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” asked Steven. “I mean, if we got some of the yard workers to pitch in…”

The driver shook his head. “It’s worth a shot, but I don’t think it’ll work.”

They gathered some of the yard workers, and the foreman volunteered to supervise the effort. “Can’t lift meself, bad back,” he said.

[The foreman stood back. “One, two, three!” he barked.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vw3ASerTzuc)

Everybody lifted as hard as they could, and to Henry’s astonishment, he was slowly lifted up. The workman glanced at each other, and suddenly all eyes fell on Steven.

With a mighty heave, they pushed forward, gently lifting Henry’s wheels back onto the track. Before long - much more quickly than it ought to have been - the big green engine’s wheels were firmly back on his rails.

“Phew!” he panted.

The driver turned to Steven.

“Goodness, lad, I think you’ve missed your calling as a strongman!” he said.

Steven shook his head, shrugging. “Oh, you know, we all pitched in there, didn’t we?”

The fireman laughed. “Maybe, but it was you doing most of the lifting! How on Earth did you get so strong, eh?”

“It’s… genetic?” Steven smiled nervously.

“Gemetic?” asked Henry. “What’s that, then?”

Steven gulped, but the driver laughed and patted him on his back.

“Alright then, we won’t push it any further,” he said cheerfully. “Come on, lets see what we can do about fixing this track.”

It wasn’t a hard job - the rail was buckled but still intact, and with a little extra ballast shuffled underneath and a few yellow flags to warn trains to slow down, it was almost right as rain. Speaking of rain, the weather was finally starting to clear as Henry’s crew climbed back into the cab.

“Thank you for your help,” said Henry. “I’m sorry I was rude.”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” replied Steven. “Have a safe journey.”

He walked back to the platform as Henry huffed happily away.

“Where d’you think he comes from, Ted?” asked the fireman. “He’s a mysterious chap, isn’t he?”

The driver shrugged. “He’ll tell us if he wants to tell us.”

[And that, Henry thought, would have to do for now.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHzpVVa2myk)


End file.
